Crime Dog: Poem
Outside the 7-11
he begins to shake
and grabs a hold
of his trembling paws,
trying to calm them.
Nausea has taken over,
his head is being jackhammered,
his fever making him wish he had
the ability to sweat. It’s cold
once again. He
pops the collar of his grey duster
and pulls it up,
covering the lower part
of his brown snout. His wet nose stings
against the night.
Reaching into his pocket he feels
the cold grip
of a Smith and Wesson.
He knows this is his only option.
The only way to his next fix.
Involuntarily, his tail begins to wag,
sensing the excitement. He eyes the clerk
through brown and red lenses.
He appears small and not the type to play the hero.
For McGruff the Crime Dog, the decision is made.
He’s about to take another bite into crime.
A big bite.
all rights reserved. copyright Justin W. Price December 4th 2011.